A Thousand Breaths...

What if no life was longer than a thousand breaths...

Our society defines and measures life in terms of bodies. A birth marks the beginning. A death marks the ending. And everything in between is called life. In many ways, this is a flawed mode of perception, a bit like defining what you are, from the perspective of your shoes or your coat, if you ask me.

Consider the following paradox. The aforementioned physical body does not always cease to be immediately in the moment that life does. Instead, it slowly stops working and runs down, but, as science has proven, machines can take over the functions of that physical being, such as breathing and heartbeat. While we call the inflation and deflation of lungs the prolonging of 'life', it is not really enough by anyone's definition. The running down/decaying process too can be halted by artificial means. But, although that spark of life does occasionally and miraculously return, it remains the wildcard of the arrangement. It cannot always be dictated to. What life really is, remains invisible. It is the symptoms of life that we mistake for life itself.

Which brings me to the next thought. Physicality is a side effect of life. It's not the other way around, even though everything in our society and around us tries to shove it down our throats. Life comes (invisibly) before bodies. Life continues (invisibly) after bodies. Perhaps in many of its purer expressions, life exists entirely independently of bodies. Close your eyes for a moment and imagine you are flying, as far and as fast as you want to. Now, open your eyes and behold the dense imprisonment surrounding your body with limitations. My point? Why bodies? Or rather, why bodies with such limited features?

So, let's throw away the concept of bodies as yardstick and begin again...

Years ago, when a friend of mine was going through his divorce, I made the statement that perhaps, within a "lifetime" we go through thousands of lives and deaths, as we constantly change who and what we are. In his response, he compared those past "lives" to snake skins, still retaining our shape, but no longer filled with our essence. Like beads, we string along millions of lives held together by the frail, false continuity of our physical identity. And when that physical identity ceases? Do we run out of beads, just because we run out of string?

Like I said before, what if no life was more than a thousand breaths.... but at the same time we had access to an infinite number (and "infinite number" is in itself a paradox and a contradiction) of lives.

An infinite number of new beginnings...

A thousand breaths...

Writer's Resource - A history of violence

Writers and aspirant writers are often advised to 'write what they know'. This could however become a little problematic, when a detailed and hands-on study of the subject matter could land you in a lot of trouble. I am talking, of course, about violence, which features with alaming frequency in literature, movies and television, but (thankfully, perhaps) not so much in the average author's life. While writers can organize access to cops, medical professionals, etc, who may become useful resources in terms of modern violence, the finer points of more archaic ways of separating human beings from their mortal remains can be a little harder to obtain. One place to look would be this website I discovered by chance. There are various articles dealing with specific historical forms of violence, as well as links to book resources that go into more depth. While the content is far from complete, and in some cases, very brief, it still makes a good starting point for authors.

And like I said, don't practice this at home...

Dead Things That Have A Life of Their Own (perhaps not for sensitive readers)

In fairy tales, little girls bravely face hungry wolves, get picked on by vindictive old ladies who do magic or ogres with attitude problems and somehow still manage to live happily ever after - usually without needing so much as a plaster, never mind trauma counseling. In comic books, they are sometimes not quite so lucky. Especially not when ill-fated by a creator who takes his inspiration from Edgar Allen Poe. I'm talking about Lenore. You have to admit, she is cute, despite the skull shaped hair slides and her morbid little circle of accomplices such as Ragamuffin and Mr Gosh. Which just goes to show. In the world of graphic novels, being dead doesn't necessary stop you getting around and having fun.

Roman Dirge, Lenore's creator is, however, not the only one who draws inspiration from a slightly icky subject.

A certain British manufacturer specializes in a line of toys that might well belong within the pages of the latest issue of Lenore. They call their product Road Kill Toys. Although still fluffy and sort of huggable, road kill toys are designed to look, well, battered, with bloodshot eyes, and innards that can be zippered up or left hanging out.

If you want to get serious about the subject of earthly remains, you might want to explore a little book entitled 'Stiff' by Mary Roach. It explores what happens to dead bodies after the souls that drove them have departed. The book makes fascinating, if gloomy reading. You will learn, for instance, about the Egyptian pharaoh, who was himself an enthusiastic dissector of the bodies of executed criminals and the surgeon who dissected both his father and his sister in the name
of science. The author reports on her visits to an embalmer, a medical school and an educational facility that studies the process of decomposition. And then there is the anecdotal story of a well-known artist who alleges to have dined on human flesh with a group of fellow students. True or false? I'm not sure I particularly want to know...